Tarnished
by enakoritsi
Summary: Gold. Not one piece twisted, it was absolutely perfect, just like her dear Benjamin. But along the way...he had become tarnished. Everything in life had. If she rubbed hard enough, a little light was sure to shine through again. It had too.


_Disclaimer: _I do not own Sweeney Todd : The Demon Barber of Fleet Street or anything associated.

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.:. Tarnished .:.

It was finally quiet.

The rush for the night had cleared away, leaving behind only plates dotted with uneaten crumbs and forgotten loose change where it had slipped from worn pockets. A cold, icy sliver in the inky sky shone down atop a small boy's head, illuminating a path around clumsy mazes of tilted tables and toppled over chairs. The only soft sound that penetrated the air was the gentle rushing of a small broom brushing back and forth as Toby diligently swept the mess away.

Inside, lying down upon soft cushions to ease the wailing of weeping muscles, Mrs. Lovett could hear the ministrations coming from her dedicated boy, causing a fond smile to grace her tired lips briefly. After allowing her crumbling bones to rest for a few minutes more, the woman forced herself to her feet and strode over to where Toby was sweeping, patting him on the shoulder with affection.

"Very nice dear," she praised kindly, the boy's dark eyes lighting up at the precious words of gratitude. "Now hurry off to bed. You'll need it for the rush tomorrow."

Toby nodded with an obedient smile before leaning the broom neatly against the doorframe and disappearing inside. Mrs. Lovett glanced around, seeing each empty bench full of waiting customers and every table coveting platter upon platter of meat pies, her meat pies. The picture cheered her, and she ambled back inside with a contented air.

Before she could do so however, small creaks from above cracked through the silence, like snakes slithering surreptitiously through thin blades of glass. Her large eyes rolled towards the stairs, knowing that atop lay a restless man clutching his silver lifeline. Ignoring the sinking feeling in her heart, Mrs. Lovett resisted the urge to meander up those unwelcoming stairs. Instead, she walked inside stiffly, closing the door behind her before entering her own room.

While its furnishings were still a bit on the bare side, the conditions were plenty better than they had been before. With the business booming as it was, there would be overwhelming income to continue upgrading bits and pieces of her home until it rivaled those of the wealthy. Sitting down on an oak-chair, she opened a small drawer in the matching desk that it guarded. Shifting her calloused hand inside, she felt along the rough edges until she felt something soft and square.

Pulling her hand out with her prize attached, Mrs. Lovett placed the pitiful object atop the wooden surface, running her fingers across the smooth lid with a look of almost longing. It was only a small box, with a cover of soft pink velvet that was already peeling as time ripped away its gentle garb. The wood it was carved from was beginning to rot and crumble, but when she opened the lid, that didn't matter.

Eyes glittering, she let the golden chain dance upon her hands, the silky metal strands falling in between each finger like a crafted spider's web. Holding it up to the light, her shadowed orbs watched its dazzling display before she allowed it to drop back onto the disgraceful desktop.

Fifteen years…so many long years. So much waiting, and wanting, and _believing_, but now…

"Oh, Mr. Ba-…Mr. Todd," she whispered hoarsely, a deep, bitter sigh arising from her parted lips. Glancing down at the chain, she played with it absentminded with the tips of her fingers, watching it splay designs on the wood.

It was the only thing she had saved, besides the obvious choice of his razors of course.

It was the _only_ thing.

She had seen him give them to her, his precious Lucy. She'd heard the thankful squeal of delight, the loud vibrato of Benjamin's pleased laugh, and she'd felt their love seep through her ceiling and burn her like acid.

None of that mattered. They were_ hers_ now. It was easy to pretend Benjamin Barker had given them to his dear landlord Mrs. Lovett, instead of his prissy wife who stayed as pristine as a child's porcelain doll. It was so simple to see him standing there, the barber who shone like the purest gold, and feel him drop the box in her palm with an affectionate smile. It was his gift to her, a sign of his love for her, and she accepted it with all of her miserable heart and soul.

Her fantasy twirling around like her beautiful butterflies and pure, white doves, Mrs. Lovett held the chain to her neck and did the clasp, feeling the cold metal sting sweetly against her pale skin. Glancing down, she held it out so she could see it, admiring her gaunt but healthier than normal reflection in its shimmering depths.

Gold. Not one piece bent or twisted, nor discolored or scratched. It was absolutely perfect, just like her dear Benjamin. Peering upwards at the ceiling and hearing the faintest murmurs of muttered ramblings and half-crazed plans, she felt a small ache in her chest for the man she had known, so angelic and perfect, so golden.

But along the way…he had become tarnished. Gone was the loving Mr. Barker she had known, and instead a mad man had found her instead. Somewhere along the line, Benjamin Barker had twisted into Sweeney Todd, whose brown eyes had gone from warm to frigid, and softly tanned skin had faded to a drained, empty white. A beautiful man and shifted into another beautiful man, but with desires so haunting that his beauty was almost cast into the dark.

She still loved him.

Gold always grew tarnished, battered and worn. Everything in life did. But if she rubbed hard enough, and worked with all her being to cleanse him, then even a little light was sure to shine through again. She _had_ to believe in that, hope for that at least.

Unclipping the necklace from around her thin neck, Mrs. Lovett draped it slowly into the box's awaiting clutches, snapping the lid shut with a sickening crack. Pressing the fabric into her fingers briefly, assuring herself that it was there, she placed it back into the same draw and shut it, shielding it from her a world that could rip it away from her needy grasp.

Hearing a muffled thump from above accompanied by the chilling screeching of a sharpened razor, Mrs. Lovett wondered whether she should go visit Mr. Todd before she retired to bed. She hadn't seen him before the flood of customers that flowed during the twilight hours, and that was far too long. Nodding silently to herself, a genuine grin bloomed on her paper cheeks, filling them with the faintest pink.

In another world, with another life and another man, someone might have even seen that she was beautiful.

Through the house she crept, like an outcast ghost shying from the moonlight. The stairs loomed before her, seeming less intimidating than previously and more than an old familiar friend. Lifting her dusty, tattered skirts, Mrs. Lovett slipped up the stairs with an uncanny grace that didn't suit her.

The aged door with its scratched knob and splintered frame greeted her with open arms, welcoming its favorite visitor. Her hand trembled slightly before she clasped the cold surface beneath her fingers, and the unlit candles sunk so low in her face gazed yearningly for what lay on the other side. The man she loved, Mr. Todd, was on the other side, waiting for her presence to swoop down like an angel (she could be two times the angel his Lucy had been) and lift him out from his darkened slumber.

"It's just me Mr. Todd," she called out brightly when she opened the door and noticed him stiffen. As she admired him under the cover of darkness, it hit her how stony the man before her appeared. With each sluggish second, Mrs. Lovett second-guessed herself warily, wondering if that white marble was skin or solid rock, pondering if those eyes were alive or just black stones. Was this a man or a statue?

"Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett question tentatively, taking a few steps forward when her words fell upon deaf ears, coating the silence. He whispered something under his breath, but when she reached out to him, he recoiled in disgust.

Mrs. Lovett could only smile, ignoring the way her lips were trembling pitifully as she forced them to stay in such a present shape. She wanted to embrace that body in front of her and feel response. The yearning she held for that ivory body to be warm as those arms held her to his chest was indescribable.

"It's alright love," she muttered, her words airy and superficial as she began backing away from the door. His hostility was as powerful as his words, pushing her back with an invisible brick wall.

"Just wanted to say goodnight Mr. Todd," she whispered cautiously before opening the door, hearing the creak from its battered hinges.

"Hm," he grunted, and she spun around with her skirts flying around in a whirl, her face open and begging for more. Instead, he simply stepped closer to the window, his lean frame drenched him moonlight as he held his shimmering razors to be caressed by the thin, caring hands.

Mrs. Lovett's face fell for a second before it reformed into a sad but understanding smile. She gazed upon his dark, unruly hair and lovely, handsome face before exiting and closing the door behind her. Sweeney Todd didn't move when he heard the door slam, shaking the vulnerable walls.

Mrs. Lovett lifted those raggedy skirts once again, marching like a monarch down the stairs. She could grin and bare it, take his coldness upon her shoulders until his words were kind again. Lucy was gone (she'd make she'd stay that way), and Johanna would never slip back into his tainted grasp. Even if she did, that would just be another piece of her perfect life's puzzle.

He would succumb to her eventually, as he ultimately had to do. He would realize how much she loved him, how much of herself she had given him. When that sacred day came, he would swoop her up with those muscular arms, and plant that much awaited kiss on her waiting lips and…

Finding herself back at her room, Mrs. Lovett sighed romantically.

She could already smell that salt-air.

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_Author's Note_ : Well, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and I really hope I paid a decent amount to something so great. If I massacred this, I'm sorry. : ) Please review and tell me what you think. I appreciate it. ; )


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